The dawn that rose over the Sky Citadel burned with blood and gold. From the tallest towers, the morning light fell through the clouds in streams of fire, illuminating the floating city like a realm between heaven and hell.
Eric stood on a balcony high above the abyss, his heart pounding as the wind whipped his cloak. Beneath him, endless clouds swirled, and from within them came the faint roars of dragons waking from slumber.
He had not slept. The mark on his arm still pulsed faintly from the night before—warm, alive, and restless. Every heartbeat seemed to echo with Seraphina's presence, distant yet near.
When she had left him before dawn, her words had been heavy with warning.
> "The Council has summoned me. Do not follow, no matter what you hear. You are not safe among them."
He had wanted to protest, but the look in her eyes silenced him. There had been fear—not for herself, but for him.
Now, alone in the chamber she had given him, he tried to quiet the fire within his blood. But peace was fleeting. The Citadel itself seemed to hum with tension. He could hear the distant toll of bells, the murmurs of dragons in human guise echoing through the halls.
They knew.
Everyone knew.
A knock came at his door.
Eric turned as it opened, revealing Kael—no longer in full armor, but wearing ceremonial robes of dark crimson. His expression was unreadable.
"You're to come with me," Kael said.
Eric frowned. "Where?"
Kael's golden eyes flicked toward the horizon. "To the Hall of Fire. The Elders have decreed you must undergo the Trial."
"Trial?"
Kael stepped closer, his voice low. "The Trial of Flame. It is ancient law. Any mortal who bears the mark must prove his soul can withstand dragonfire. If you fail, the fire will consume you."
Eric met his gaze. "And if I survive?"
Kael hesitated. "Then… the bond is recognized. You will be seen as one of us. For now."
A strange smile touched Eric's lips. "Then let's get this over with."
---
The Hall of Fire was older than the Citadel itself—a vast circular arena carved from volcanic glass. Rivers of molten gold flowed through channels in the floor, casting dancing light upon the stone. The heat was suffocating.
Hundreds of figures filled the surrounding terraces—dragons in human form, their eyes gleaming like jewels, whispering among themselves. The air thrummed with ancient energy and disdain.
At the center stood a dais marked with runes. Eric could feel the heat radiating from it even before he stepped closer.
From the far end of the hall, a gong sounded.
The great doors opened.
Seraphina entered.
Her gown of silver and flame trailed behind her, her expression calm but her eyes shadowed with fear. Behind her walked four figures cloaked in gold—the Elder Council of Drakonis.
They were magnificent and terrible. Each bore the unmistakable aura of dragons older than mountains. Their gazes cut through Eric like blades.
The eldest among them, a woman with scarlet eyes and horns like a crown of fire, raised her staff. "Bring forth the mortal who bears our blood."
Eric stepped forward. Every instinct screamed for him to kneel—but he stood tall.
The Elder's gaze narrowed. "You defy even our presence?"
"I stand," he said quietly, "because the bond you question is mine as much as hers."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Seraphina's breath caught. "Eric…"
The Elder turned to her. "Princess Seraphina of Drakonis, daughter of the Flameborn Line—you stand accused of bonding with a mortal, a crime punishable by exile or death. How do you plead?"
She met the Elder's gaze. "Guilty."
Gasps filled the hall.
Eric's heart clenched. "Seraphina—!"
But she lifted her hand, silencing him. "I am guilty of loving him. Of breaking your law. But I do not regret it."
The Elder's eyes blazed. "Then you shall watch as the fire judges him. If he survives, perhaps the gods themselves have chosen differently. But if he fails…"
Her gaze turned to Eric. "His ashes will be scattered to the winds, and your bond will burn with him."
The floor of the hall began to shift. The molten channels brightened, forming a ring of pure flame. The runes glowed brighter until they carved themselves into light.
Kael stepped beside Eric, his face grim. "Do not resist the fire. Accept it. Or it will devour you."
Eric nodded once, then stepped into the circle. The heat hit him like a wall.
The flames rose, swirling upward into a vortex. He could feel them tearing at his flesh, his thoughts, his soul. The mark on his arm ignited—gold and crimson intertwining in blinding light.
Screams filled his mind—not his own, but memories. Centuries of dragonfire, of wings and blood and endless sky. He saw battles fought under red suns, kingdoms burned to ash, and dragons crying out in rage and sorrow.
His knees buckled, but he refused to fall.
Somewhere beyond the flames, he heard her voice—soft, desperate.
> "Eric, listen to me. Don't fight the fire. Let it see your heart."
Her words cut through the chaos. He forced his eyes open.
The fire wasn't just heat—it was alive. It circled him like a living creature, probing his spirit, testing his resolve.
He reached deep inside himself—not for power, but for truth.
"I don't want to be a god," he whispered. "I don't want your thrones or your blood. I just want to stand beside her."
The flames paused.
And then, they changed.
From gold and red they turned pure white—so bright the Elders shielded their eyes. The air filled with the sound of beating wings.
A shape formed within the fire—vast, ancient, magnificent. A dragon of light.
It looked down upon him, eyes like stars, and spoke in a voice that shook the hall:
> "Love untainted by desire. Courage unbroken by fear. The flame accepts."
The vortex collapsed inward, and the fire vanished.
When the smoke cleared, Eric still stood. His clothes were burned, his body trembling—but alive. The mark on his arm now glowed with a steady, calm light.
The Elders stared in silence.
Finally, the scarlet-eyed matriarch spoke. "Impossible. No mortal has survived the Trial in ten thousand years."
Seraphina ran to him, ignoring protocol and guards alike. She caught him in her arms, her tears falling onto his burned skin. "You did it… You really did it."
He smiled weakly. "Told you I'd survive."
The crowd erupted in chaos—some shouting in awe, others in outrage.
Kael dropped to one knee, head bowed. "The Trial has spoken. The bond is sacred. He is of dragonfire now."
The Elder's eyes blazed, but even she could not defy the ancient law. "Then so be it. The mortal is recognized. But know this, Eric of Drakenvale—the fire may have accepted you, yet your path has only begun. The bond that saves may also destroy."
Eric met her gaze. "Then I'll walk it anyway."
The Elder turned sharply. "Take them away. The Council will reconvene at dusk."
As the hall emptied, Seraphina helped Eric walk, her arm around him. He could barely stand, but warmth filled his chest—not from pain, but from her touch.
When they reached the courtyard, she stopped and looked at him, eyes shining with both love and fear.
"You don't understand what you've done," she said softly. "You've changed everything. The Council will never stop watching us now."
"Let them watch," he murmured. "I'll never leave you."
She pressed her forehead to his. "Then we'll face the fire together."
Above them, the dragons roared—not in anger, but in acknowledgment.
The bond between man and dragon had been reborn.
And somewhere deep in the heart of the Citadel, hidden from sight, an ancient dragon opened its eyes for the first time in centuries. Its voice, like thunder, rumbled through the unseen skies:
> "The prophecy begins anew."